Game On by Michelle Smith Page B

signaling for Matt to knock it off.
    â€œEx,” Bri says quietly, and Coach’s eyes open. “His ex-girlfriend. And I’m here because this is my fault—wait, no, it’s not my fault. Eric’s the one acting like an idiot. But I’d bet anything that he was fighting ‘for me’”—she uses air quotes—“and I wanted to make sure he didn’t get completely screwed over.”
    She’s right—I got this swollen eye for her. A little appreciation might be nice.
    Coach blows out a breath. “So this was over a girl. It’s getting even better.”
    â€œA girl Matt won’t leave alone,” I cut in. “He’s stalking her like a damn nutjob.”
    He shoots me a glare before adding, “Then I guess he and I are having a conversation on the way home. And I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Bri, but I’ve already told Eric that I’m at a loss here.”
    â€œThere’s got to be something you can do. You can’t kick him off the team when—” She sighs. “When he was trying to do a nice thing. Kind of. Sort of.”
    Coach shrugs. “If you’ve got any suggestions, I’m all ears.”
    Yes. We are
all
ears.
    Bri chews her lower lip. I study her face, trying to figuring out exactly what the heck’s going through that head of hers, until she lights up. “What about community service?”
    â€œWhat?” Coach and I both ask.
    Bri’s beaming, practically giddy. “Hear me out. You know how people get community service when they go to court? I volunteer every Saturday at the community center right outside Summerville. Maybe Eric can come with me.”
    Hold up. Now that practice has started, Saturday is my only free day of the week. I’d have to give
that
up?
    His eyes trained on Bri, Coach crosses his arms. “I’m listening.”
    Of course, Saturdays are so overrated.
    â€œ We serve breakfast that morning, and I’m in charge of athletic time for the kids—I head up soccer there. So from, like, nine until noon.”
    He tilts his head toward me. “You wouldn’t mind hauling this kid around every week?”
    â€œI’m not sure I’d go that far, but the center could use the help.”
    I look back and forth between them, like I’m watching some amazing, life-saving ping-pong game.
Keep talking
.
    â€œHow long are you thinking?” Coach asks.
    Wait. Since when does my neighbor get to decide my punishment?
    Bri shrugs. “I’ll be there every weekend until summer, so as long as you want him there.”
    â€œLet’s say five weeks?”
    I raise my hand. “Hey,” I say. “Yeah, remember me? Do I get any say in this at all?”
    Coach levels me with a glare. “You want to keep your spot on this team?”
    So that’d be a resounding
no.
And I’m strangely okay with that.
    â€œThen it’s settled,” Coach says, that glare lingering on me. “You’ll help Bri at the community center every Saturday morning for five weeks. It’ll be good for all of us if it looks like you’re actually trying to work this off. I’ll let the boosters know, and I’m sure they’ll be more than willing to spread the word.” He looks to Bri. “And you’ll keep me posted on this guy. My office, Monday mornings?”
    Bri nods. “Yes, sir. Absolutely.”
    Coach claps his hands together. “Great. Fantastic. Let’s get the hell out of here.” He turns to me. “This is your last chance, Eric. I mean it. I used to let you boys have it out when you needed to, but you have your brother to thank for kissing that goodbye.”
    I think back to last season, when my brother beat the shit out of a pitcher in the middle of a game for being a homophobic douchebag. He came out of it with a dislocated shoulder, but he didn’t regret it for a second. “Well,